


Day 11- Live Surgery

by Broken_Clover



Series: Goretober 2018 [11]
Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Dissection, Medical Examination, Medical Experimentation, Other, Restraints, Surgery, Vivisection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 11:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Clover/pseuds/Broken_Clover
Summary: Alternate ending for XX Accent Core. After returning the Robo-Ky head to Professor Crow, Zappa finds himself at the mercy of the man's insatiable curiosity.





	Day 11- Live Surgery

**Author's Note:**

> Truthfully, this is probably one of my favorite fics from this series. I like medical horror.
> 
> Adapted from an old fic of mine, the intro is taken from his story path dialogue.

_“By the way…”_

_“Yes?”_

_“I’m very interested in that body of yours.”_

_“W-wait, my body? What about it?”_

_“Oh, it’s nothing, really…I just wanted to take a closer look at it. I’ve heard quite a lot about your abilities as a medium._

_Spiritual weaponry…Oh, the sound of that…it’s exhilarating! It sounds so cool!”_

_“O-ohhh….s-spiritual?”_

_“Oh, I can’t hold it anymore. I’m so excited. I need to examine you. Right this moment. NOW!”_

_**Vrr…** _

_“Wh-what is that thing?!”_

_“Don’t worry about it. It won’t hurt. I’m just going to numb you._

_…well, I guess I might need to dissect you later…”_

_“I-I…T-TRY IT, IF YOU CAN!”_

_“Ohoho! That’s it…that’s perfect! It’s time for us to go all out, too!”_

_“Target confirmed. Mode Switched. Begin Capture.”_

++++++

Even with his eyes closed, the sun was too bright. Zappa felt a little groan of dismay float through his thoughts. Didn’t he know better than to leave the window open at night? This always happened when he stayed up too late.

With a dry groan, he reached out to try and find the window without opening his eyes. If he was lucky, maybe he could close the blinds and try to get another half-hour of rest.

As soon as he tried to move his hand, he felt it stuck in place.

“N-nhh…huh?”

Zappa tried to cover his face with a hand, to block out the blinding light. He tugged again, but still felt both arms snagged on something. An experimental tug of the leg yielded a similar result, only a fruitless movement that was restrained in place.

“Ahh, you’re awake! Very good.”

The unfamiliar voice put an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. He very slowly opened his eyes, blinking to try and adjust to the harsh light overhead with nothing to guard him. He found that his head could turn at least a little, and he tried to find the source of the voice.

“W-where…where…am I?”

He could make out the vague traces of a sharp jaw, a wide smile standing prominent on ashy skin.

“Don’t remember? I suppose I don’t blame you. You have taken a few hits. This is the P.W.A.B. laboratory.”

“W-wha…?” P.W.A.B.? That didn’t sound even remotely familiar.

Zappa tried to think. He was…supposed to be looking for doctor Faust, right? Yes, that was correct. He was going to see if Faust could figure out why he kept blacking out all the time. Was that what happened? Did he black out again and forget?

The smile thinned out for a moment, before growing sharper. Zappa could make out the little crescents of eyeglass lenses, shining as the light struck them.

“Hmm.” The stranger murmured, tapping his chin with a gloved finger. “Perhaps I’ll need to run some cognition tests later…I didn’t think that my Justice had hurt you that badly…”

…Justice?

Oh no. No no no no _no no no-_

The nervous feeling turned to pure ice as the memories flooded back. Zappa felt his eyes widen in terror.

“Y-YOU!” He shouted, voice shrill in fear. “You’re the one with that giant robot! T-the one you attacked me with, I-”

He could feel his heart thudding, breathing staggered and rapid. He turned his head back to the sky. With his vision clear, he realized that the blindingly-bright circle of light hanging over him wasn’t the sun at all.

It was a surgical lamp.

An amused little chuckle slipped into his ears. “I’m very glad you decided to wake up, mister…Zappa, was it? I wasn’t sure how I was going to do some of these analyses without you.”

“A-analyses?!” Already panicking, he tugged on the restraints around his wrists, swiftly realizing that the thick leather was more than a match for his lack of strength.

“Please try to relax. I’d like to try and reduce as many variables as possible.” The pale-skinned man steepled his fingers together, looking at his restrained subject almost affectionately.

“Who are you?! Why are you d-doing this?!”

“Ah, I suppose I have yet to introduce myself.” He gave a little bow. “I am professor Crow Kuruwaba. And to answer your second question, it’s because you’ve been blessed with a rare ability. One that I have a very deep interest in getting to know and understand. I assure you it’s nothing personal. However…” He reached out to softly caress the side of Zappa’s face. “I certainly don’t mind that my test subject is someone as pretty as you.”

Zappa pulled away from the doctor’s touch, trying to control his frantic and staggered breathing. “P-p-please…d-don’t do this- !”

Crow offered a calm shrug. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t turn back now. I’ve already gotten started.”

“…What do you…?”

“I was hoping on getting some feedback on my knife-work, anyway…Tell me what you think of what I’ve done so far.”

Curves and crescents of glossy red muscles folded out of a split-open torso. Even from his vantage point, Zappa could see a twitching heart, lungs rapidly inflating and deflating around it, nestled behind the protective cage of ribs. Smooth tissue spasmed and wriggled and pulsed rhythmically, some partly-displaced and hanging out of the open cavity limply. Several long forceps sparkled under the lamplight, hooking around the flaps of skin and holding them open on the operating table.

It was _his_ body, on display like a middle-school science experiment.

“Y-you…you…” His throat felt tight. A thick tube had been shoved into the crook of his arm, tinged bright red from the blood that was replacing what was already smeared across the tabletop. Just looking at it made him feel lightheaded.

He was interrupted by the clinking of plastic and metal. Crow had disappeared from his view, but it was clear that he was not truly gone.

“You have a very hardy form, Zappa. I know some subjects that wouldn’t even be able to get past this. You must take very good care of yourself. Frankly, I’m impressed.” The professor’s voice sounded somewhere behind him. “Of course, I still have precautions to take. Such a waste to have a rare specimen die on test one, no?”

Zappa caught a glint of something translucent as it descended over him. He flinched and held his breath, but only felt a bit of pressure over the lower half of his face.

“Can you breathe alright?”

He was shocked by the gentleness in Crow’s voice. He realized that the object must have been some sort of oxygen mask. He managed to stammer out a noise of affirmation.

“Oh, excellent! How about now?”

With a nasty wet squelch, Crow thrust his hand into the open chest cavity and clamped down on the left lung. He stroked it gently for a moment before roughly squeezing the spongy tissue, which easily gave under the pressure. Zappa felt himself gasping, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the constriction, fear, or some amount of both.

Crow pulled his hand out, and wiped the glove off on a rag. “I’ve already injected a local anaesthetic, enough to keep you from fainting on me. Today’s tests will be majorly focused on the abdominal and pleural cavities. I expect that they will be for quite some time. It’s entirely possible that the component causing your abilities is located somewhere within your brain, but I’m not quite ready to cut your skull open just yet. In any case, I’m very intrigued by the sorts of changes your body goes through during activation. Based on the combat data I gathered from your fight with Justice, you seem remarkably… _flexible_.”

Zappa felt dizzy. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. It all had to be some bad prank, right? Or some awful nightmare? It couldn’t be real.

A small cart was dragged over, with tools carefully arranged on it. Crow selected a thin, narrow scalpel, looking it over in the artificial light. Nodding in approval, he pulled on the surgical mask that had been pushed down over his throat.

“I do hope you choose to be cooperative. I have no trouble severing your Achilles’ tendon so you can’t run away, but that’s always so much messier than it should be. You’re helping the P.W.A.B. make leaps and bounds in the fields of science, isn’t that something you should be proud of?

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t scream. Zappa couldn’t even bring himself to cry. He was too paralyzed in terror, only capable of watching as the scalpel’s tip descended over his torn-open body.

“Now, mister Zappa, it’s time to find out what makes you tick.”


End file.
